


All's Fair In Sex And Business

by jamestiqueeriuskirk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Lucifer, Casual Sex, Corporate Espionage, M/M, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestiqueeriuskirk/pseuds/jamestiqueeriuskirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam Wesson has a one night stand, an unfortunate reunion, and a difficult decision to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair In Sex And Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suchanadorer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts).



> For Suchanadorer's HTH2014 prompt, "It's a Terrible Life AU where Lucifer is the CEO of a rival company and looking to recruit Sam."

 

Everybody knew about Luke Milton, at least in terms of what they’d overheard from a coworker’s friend who served coffee to his former secretary once, so, of course, nobody really knew anything about him, but when Milton Enterprises swooped in for a hostile corporate takeover of Sandover Bridge & Iron, Inc., that didn’t stop the whole building from buzzing with gossip.

“Y’know, he was only second in line at Milton Enterprises before his brother took a nasty fall out a penthouse window,” the lady in the cubicle parallel to Sam’s had once told him.

“He’s a real Bernie Madoff type. Made all his money off other peoples’ savings,” was what Brady had heard.

“Queer as a three dollar bill!” The janitor who worked Sam’s floor used to swear up and down until he was blue in the face. Couldn’t really procure any evidence, as far as Sam could tell.

Dean was the only person Sam knew who’d met him, face to face, and Dean was not fond of him.

“Guy’s a dick, through and through,” he assured Sam as he dug into a chicken Caesar salad a little more aggressively than he perhaps normally would have. Sam had to assume it was his way of letting off steam when sunrise yoga just wasn’t enough. “He’s basically Satan.”

\--

There were certain advantages to moving up the corporate ladder. A better salary, for one. Finally leaving the six-by-six Hell of his cubicle for a real office with privacy and leg room, that was another. Compulsory attendance to corporate parties, well, that wasn’t on the list. Nowhere near the list.

But he couldn’t shirk responsibility, so when the instructions to attend the black-tie event arrived wrapped up in a fancy official envelope (with a seal and everything), he just sighed, drove his neglected tuxedo to the drycleaners and tossed out the “and guest” invitation. He didn’t have anyone to accompany him, not since Madison.

\--

Sam didn’t spare a lot of time for pretentiousness, but even he was impressed with the venue when he pulled up to the high-rise hotel where Sandover and Milton employees were meant to spend the evening mingling to ease the tension (and, possibly, the transition, if that was the way negotiations were headed. Sam had no strong preference, to be honest).

After his car had been valet-parked and a gracious host had escorted him through the glass doors and past the red-silk and marble lobby into the spacious ballroom, Sam wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. The only coworkers he was familiar with were the tech support team, and they hadn’t all been promoted alongside him, so of course they weren’t here. Dean was, but he wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to latch onto him, especially since they were so divided by rank still. Besides, Dean seemed to be getting along fine on his own, judging by the two girls he had hanging onto his every word.

He settled on getting a drink.

\--

He was already pleasantly buzzed when the man slid into the unoccupied seat beside him and put in an order for cognac. Sam barely paid him any mind, turning over his half-empty tumbler in his hands until he felt an appraising gaze settle on him and heard the man call the bartender back and instruct her to “make that two.”

Slightly flushed, he turned to face him. The man had a certain unkept air about him, scruffy blond hair sticking up in a way that reminded Sam vaguely of popular douchebags who used to harass him in college (though his suit was neatly pressed, and judging by its quality, he could probably buy Sam and comfortably get away with it), but his gaze was not unkind. Quite the opposite.

Sam didn’t recognize him at all, but he was probably a much, much higher-up, either with Sandover or with Milton, and he probably needed to attempt to make a good impression on him, whatever he was after, but when the bartender returned with a glass of cognac that likely cost more than Sam’s whole apartment, rather than return the man’s toast, Sam mumbled out “I can’t accept this.”

The man looked surprised, raising his eyebrows, as if he wasn’t used to being questioned. Definitely from the top of the corporate ladder, then, and possibly old money. “Why not?”

A little embarrassed, Sam told him it was far too expensive.

“I wouldn’t have spent the money if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

And Sam goes crimson, here, because the guy is very, very likely flirting with him (it’s been a while, for Sam, and he’s not sure he’s navigating the social cues right here, but he couldn’t imagine what else buying someone a drink this way could mean), and takes a silent sip of the brandy. It’s good.

The man seems pleased by this, watching Sam intently, and Sam feels compelled to break the silence simply to divert his attention from Sam’s lips.

“I’m guessing you work for Milton Enterprises?” He asks, smiling to be polite more than anything else.

“Something like that,” the man says.

“You must have a lot to celebrate.”

“Not really. Negotiations aren't going nearly half as swiftly as anticipated.” Sam wonders why he’s sharing this, but he supposes it’ll all be public sooner or later. “If anything, what I need right now is a way to let off steam,” he says, eyes darkening with something that might be lust as they hold Sam’s gaze unwaveringly.

Sam swallows, slowly, and wets his lips.

\--

Sam shouldn't be doing this. Should not be doing this one bit. It’s crazy. He doesn’t know anything about this guy, so far, besides that he drives a Rolls Royce Phantom and that his name is Luke, and, since boarding the luxurious high-rise’s elevator, that he lives in the fucking penthouse.

Maybe if Luke would take his hands off Sam for even one second he’d return to his senses and realize picking up a one-night stand from the company party (leaving with him in plain sight of damn near everyone, his boss included) might not be one of the best ideas he’s had lately, but as it stands, he can’t seem to remember why, and he allows Luke to press him against the elevator wall and wage war on his mouth while they ride to the thirty-eighth floor.

They’re both panting and flushed and halfway out of their jackets when they stumble over the threshold and into a room that takes Sam’s breath away for an entirely different reason once Luke untangles himself so he can lead Sam by the tie (and hey, that’s kind of hot) to his bed.

The floor is marble, pure white and gold, dipping in the middle to accommodate a free-standing fireplace and snaking its way up to the high ceiling in the form of Corinthian columns. The wall opposite to Sam is entirely glass paneling, revealing a statue standing guard from the middle of a well-lit balcony pool of the sprawling city beyond. There are no doors, just paneling sectioning off different areas of the apartment, and Sam is manhandled into the alcove that must be Luke’s bedroom before he really has time to take it all in.

The bed is monstrous, too large by any means to be a king, and as Sam sinks back into the luxurious ebony comforter, he notices the ceiling is a mural, but when Luke climbs atop him, straddling him, he quickly finds it easy to disregard the haunted eyes watching from above.

Luke threads his large hands through Sam’s hair and draws their faces together for a languid, slippery kiss, using his tongue to learn the corners of Sam’s mouth as if he plans to do this many times over (a nice thought, but one Sam lets slip as Luke brushes off his jacket and goes for his shirt buttons). Having divested Sam of his top, he rocks back and does the same to himself, shrugging shirt and vest off carelessly and discarding them somewhere into the ether. It’s Sam’s belt that he targets next, dragging it from its loops so he can slip a hand under Sam’s waistband to palm at his hardening cock, his own erection straining against his zipper. Sam gasps and shuffles out of his pants and boxers himself, allowing his cock to spring free. Luke wastes no time in stumbling out of his own pants, dragging Sam’s the rest of the way down before rejoining him on the bed, using one hand to pin both of Sam’s down, leaving him effectively at his mercy, and stroking his cock with the other.

Sam can’t stop the little, breathless gasps that are slipping from his lips unbidden. He’s no virgin, but usually, in bed, he’s the one calling the shots. This is, well, overwhelming, to say the least, and they haven’t even really gotten started.

Luke seems pleased with Sam’s reaction, and lowers his head to nibble at Sam’s collarbone, briefly, before licking a long, hot stripe up the column of his neck and then whispering in his ear. “What do you want, Sam?”

That voice is sin, and Sam bucks helplessly into Luke’s grip, craving more. “You.”

“You have me,” Luke assures him, twisting his fingers just so around the base of Sam’s cock. Sam gasps, wishing Luke would release his hands so can give just as good as he’s getting, but it seems that isn’t on the menu for the night, because Luke nips at the pulse point on his neck before murmuring “wait here,” as if Sam is planning on going anywhere, and slipping off.

He returns not a moment later with lube and a condom, settling back down on the bed beside Sam and plastering himself to his side. Luke busies himself momentarily with tearing the condom open and rolling it onto Sam’s dick, so Sam takes the opportunity to get handsy where it comes and wraps his fingers around Luke’s cock, pressing kisses into his neck.

Luke chuckles, and, handing Sam the lube, rolls onto his back, dragging Sam with him.

This is familiar territory. Sam kisses his way down Luke’s torso, coming to a halt at his hip, where he sucks hard enough to bruise. Luke clutches at Sam’s scalp. He’s twitching, almost imperceptibly, but he’s pliant beneath Sam as Sam uncaps the lube and slathers it on his fingers.

He starts slow, inserting one thick finger gently, seeking Luke’s prostate. Once Luke has stopped squirming with discomfort and started squirming in pleasure he adds another, then another (hey, he’s big, okay?), all the while keeping a steady rhythm where he’s jerking his other hand, slippery with sweat and pre-come, on Luke’s cock.

Briefly, he toys with the idea of adding a fourth finger, keeping Luke here on the edge until he’s shaky and begging for Sam’s cock, but Luke seems to be growing impatient, wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist and drawing him closer while his hole sucks down Sam’s fingers. Sam stills his hand at the base of Luke’s cock and Luke decides he’s had enough, because he springs forward and Sam suddenly finds himself on his back while Luke sinks purposefully down onto his cock.

He bottoms out with a groan and next thing Sam knows he’s being ridden into the mattress. He takes Luke’s cock in hand and Luke leans in for a fierce kiss, tongues and teeth clacking together with every thrust as Luke takes him deeper and deeper. Luke splays his hands out across Sam’s heaving chest and digs his nails in when he’s jostled upward by a particularly hard thrust, Sam losing control near the end, but he doesn’t seem to mind it one bit, he just bears down on Sam faster, matching his pace until he tumbles over the edge, shooting over both their stomachs.

The way he clenches down on Sam as he’s riding out his orgasm sets Sam off on his own, and he meets Luke’s lips again, biting down on his lower lip and leaving Luke sighing around his softening cock.

He pulls off and settles down beside Sam on the bed, not cuddling, though he does stroke Sam’s face for a moment, which Sam finds, frankly, embarrassing (he’s not used to this sort of attention and he can’t decide if he likes it or not), lazily, before drifting off.

\--

Despite his better judgment, Sam doesn’t get up and get dressed immediately after Luke falls asleep, which is why he’s stuck stumbling around looking for his pants at six in the morning while Luke snores lightly. He’s not sure how he’s going to make it back to the hotel where he left his car (damn it, why did he have to do this? The parking bill was probably through the roof by now), but he also isn’t sure whether Luke wants him to be here when he wakes up, so better safe than- oh, the snoring’s just stopped.

“Morning,” he says, sitting up. He looks a different person now, bare-chested and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A little less intimidating until Sam remembers he’s probably worth thirty billion dollars.

Sam returns his greeting as he tugs on his shoes.

“D’you want breakfast?”

Too much, Sam thinks. He’s just slept with a millionaire he met last night and now the guy wants to feed him. “I need to go get my car,” Sam tells him, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I think I’m good, thanks. I’ll get a taxi.” He always feels awkward the morning after, those few occasions he can remember there being a morning after. He wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing under normal circumstances. He knew cutting and running wasn’t the adult way to handle this, but Luke seems inclined to let him go, perhaps sensing his discomfort, and waving him off with a sigh.

\--

“Dude, you’ll never guess what I-“ Sam stops. Stops dead. He walked into the conference room expecting to see Dean, packing up after the latest round of Sandover-Milton negotiations. Which, to be fair, he found, but he wasn’t expecting Luke to be there also, looking smart in a crisp business suit, and it kind of threw him for a loop.

Dean looks up to notice his coworker staring right past him and Luke looking back, hands folded and wearing an expression of polite interest, and takes it upon himself to make (what he thinks) is the introduction. “Sam, this is Luke Milton. Luke Milton, Sam Wesson.”

Luke Milton. Milton. He should have connected the dots. If he was good at anything other than fixing computers he would have.

He slept with the man that wants to take Sandover down.

“It’s a pleasure.” Luke’s voice and his grin are silky and a hint amused.

The smile Sam offers back is strained.

“So what were you saying?” Dean asks, semi distracted by the stack of papers he’s dumping into his briefcase. So, of course, he doesn’t notice Luke smirking lazily over his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you in private?”

Dean seems alarmed, but he packs up and follows Sam to his office without complaint, grunting a goodbye to Luke, who nods and waves and, Sam swears, winks.

“I slept with him!” Sam hisses, once the door is shut firmly behind them.

Clearly, not what Dean was expecting, if the way he burst into laughter is anything to go by.

“It isn’t funny,” Sam insists miserably as Dean begins to tear up.

“Thought you said you like chicks, man,” Dean says. “When we first met, remember?” Sam thinks he’s turning purple. Oh god.

“I never said that. I said I wasn’t into you, specifically,” Sam reminds. Dean stops laughing. He looks almost affronted about it. “Besides, I do. I just… also happen to like guys.”

“You mean to say all this time, you’ve been batting for both teams and you haven’t even given me a second thought?”

Sam has to resist rolling his eyes. “Firstly, no, I haven’t. Second, that’s not important, Dean! What’s important here is that I had sex with the CEO of Milton Enterprises.”

“When, back in college?” It’s still not clicking for Dean.

“Back in…He’s at least fifteen years older than me! I mean Friday night.”

That just sets him off again.

“It isn’t funny, Dean!”

\--

Dean’s lack of concern for the whole affair puts Sam on edge. If he’d kept his mouth shut, he might have been able to coast by under Luke’s radar, but Dean was stuck in negotiations with him, four, five hours a day, sometimes longer, and Dean was the kind of guy who just couldn’t resist poking the hornet’s nest a little bit. For all he knows, he’s just damned Luke to days, maybe weeks, of subtle gay jokes.

His absolute worst fears are confirmed when a nervous intern knocked on his door three days later to tell him Room Five Fifty-nine wanted to see him. That room was usually unoccupied, but in an attempt to win over Milton Enterprise’s favor, the company had provided their employees with a suite for the duration of negotiations.

Luke’s secretary smiled at him when he entered the spacious lobby. It wasn’t a nice smile.

“Through there,” she told him, pointing him through a set of closed double doors.

Sam opened them to find Luke hunched over his desk, seemingly absorbed in his laptop. He spent a minute awkwardly deliberating over whether or not to knock on the doorframe or just barge in before Luke looked up from his work with a smile. The fucker had known he was there the whole time.

“Come in, Sam,” Luke says, beckoning him to one of the cushy chairs parked in front of his desk. Sam sits, and Luke folds his hands under his chin and waits. Sam isn’t sure if he’s supposed to get the ball rolling here (maybe the intern was supposed to tell him why he’d been summoned?), but Luke’s staring begins to make him uncomfortable and slightly aroused after about the ten second mark, so he pushes on regardless.

“Look, I’m sorry about anything Dean might have-“

“Oh, no, this isn’t about him, Sam.” Luke says, casually. “This is about you.”

“Me?”

“Are you happy with your current salary, Sam?” He asks, turning back to his computer.

Sam reels. This conversation is just one surprise after another. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Luke considers for a moment. “Well, I’m making it my business. I’ve gone through your files-“ he gestures towards his computer screen, and Sam doesn’t know whether to feel violated or impressed. “-and I’d say you’re something special. I think you deserve better, don’t you?”

He honestly can’t believe this. He wonders if it would be rude to get up and walk away. “Look, no offense, but I’m not really looking for that kind of a relationship-“

Luke holds up his hand. “You misunderstand,” he assures. “I’m not asking you to be my sugar baby, though I… wouldn’t be averse to a repeat performance of last Friday.” Sam gulps. His sentiments exactly. “I’m asking you to be my inside man.”

He can feel himself flushing, but his relief overshadows his embarrassment. Momentarily, at least, until he considers what Luke is asking of him. “You want me to spy on Sandover for you?”

“Sam.” Luke rises from his chair, shaking his head. He walks over to Sam, and settles in front of him, leaning back on the edge of his desk, so Sam has to crane his neck to meet his eyes. He wonders if it’s supposed to be some kind of erotic dominance display. “Don’t think of it like that. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal.”

“Corporate espionage sounds pretty illegal to me.”

“Nothing so uncouth. What I need is an insider perspective. Someone who really understands the workings of Sandover and is willing to periodically report to me with updates. Just let me know how your bosses are handling themselves so I can decide if I need to change tactics.” He reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. He doesn’t remove his hand. “Can you do that for me?”

Sam laughs, shakily. “Do you always go around seducing and then hiring rival company’s employees, or am I just lucky?”

“Just you, Sam.” Luke promises, skimming his thumb across Sam’s lips.

There are probably a million reasons this is a bad idea. He ought to walk out and be done with Luke Milton and Milton Enterprises for good. No sense in jeopardizing his whole career for a few extra bucks (well, considering how loaded Luke is, it’s probably more than a few bucks, but still. If he’s fired, his use runs out, and he’d end up losing both sources of income), but damn if he doesn’t lean ever so slightly into that brief touch.

Luke catches on, of course, but rather than crowding Sam against his chair and kissing him breathless (which is what he was hoping for, being honest with himself), he draws back and returns to his seat.

“My two o’ clock should be here any minute, so you’re free to go,” he offers, polite and professional like he wasn’t just making bedroom eyes at Sam not a minute earlier.

Slightly dazed, Sam finds his way to the door.

“Oh, Sam?” He looks back, hopeful. “Think it over, will you?”


End file.
